Crash in Slow Motion
by Mesita
Summary: Most cars spend their entire existence never touching another car. When two vehicles collide, it is called an accident, a crash. What if not every crash is an accident? Or, the one where a magic talisman turns Derek's Camaro and Stiles' Jeep into humans and they fall in love.
1. Chapter 1

It is impossible to describe the relationship between a boy and his car. Using any familial terms can't quite cover everything that happens. They are not siblings. There's a love that exists between a boy and his car that human siblings cannot replicate. They do not share the bond of lovers or the bond between a parent and child.

In the human language, the only term that can be used is 'friend,' yet the feeling goes even beyond that. The boy must trust his vehicle to take him safely to his destination and the vehicle must trust the boy has the proper know-how and reflexes to command the car's various functions.

When a car is given enough love, it will perform admirably. Take the love away from a car and the relationship quickly devolves into one of hate, mistrust, and eventually, abandonment.

* * *

Betty counted herself lucky to have found someone like Stiles.

The day Betty met Stiles, she was at her absolute worst. She'd been in the Stilinski family for a while, but up until Stiles' sixteenth birthday, she'd been left alone in the garage of the Sheriff's brother. She'd been bought fresh from the dealership, but after gasoline prices began to skyrocket, she was replaced by a pretentious Prius.

She hadn't had an oil change in years; her gears felt rusted; she was pretty sure her tires were growing flat, and she didn't even want to get started on the layer of dust and dirt that had accumulated on her hood. Some of Stiles' cousins had written obscene words and drawn pictures of penises all over her windows. No one had cleaned her interior in years and she still had fast food French fries in her seats that had solidified into rocks.

And yet, despite all of these setbacks, Stiles loved her.

When Stiles first lifted open the door to his Uncle's garage, Betty didn't know what to expect. She assumed the worst and braced herself for grimy fingers but instead she received an exclamation.

"She's beautiful! Is she really mine?"

Betty didn't know what to think at first. The speaker wasn't one of the brats that sat in her seats and honked her horn. This was a scrawny mess with a buzz cut and a smile too big for his face. Was this skinny kid talking to her? There was a myriad of junk stashed away in the garage—surely he couldn't be addressing her? It wasn't until he threw himself over her hood in an impromptu hug that she actually believed him.

"She's all yours," the familiar voice of the man who had abandoned her sounded out from the garage door. His voice sounded far away and unimportant. Someone was hugging her. That same someone had called her beautiful.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! She's perfect!"

Betty beamed inwardly.

Stiles had spent the better part of the day scrubbing her down and vacuuming out the potato rocks from her passenger seat. Little by little, she began to feel loved again. The best part was that the entire time Stiles worked, he spoke. After years and years of silence, the nonstop babble was actually a blessing.

"A Jeep, man. I can't believe my uncle is actually letting me have his _Jeep_. We're gonna do so many awesome things together. Just you wait. We'll go camping and you'll help me pick up chicks and, well, mostly Lydia. She'll see me in a classic Jeep like you and forget about that Jackson douchebag with his fancy Porsche. Girls dig Jeeps. I read that somewhere."

Betty listened happily. Over the course of a few weeks, Stiles continued to fix her up. He named her Betty, and even though she had been nameless before then, she felt as though maybe her name had always been Betty. He got her that much needed oil change, new tires, a transmission flush, new filters, a heater coil, a fresh coat of paint and even seat covers. He still ate fast food and occasionally lost a French fry, but every Sunday he cleaned her out.

It wasn't just Betty that received a makeover, either. Stiles' life was improving as well. Even though Betty didn't know Stiles beforehand, he told her firsthand about everything that was happening to him. Girls started to notice him a little more. He'd gotten enough confidence to join the lacrosse team. He even installed a police scanner in her so he could listen in on his father. He wasn't lying when they said they would go on adventures together. The world was an exciting place for a Jeep in Beacon Hills—especially when Stiles was behind the wheel. Betty saw more flashing lights from the heavy duty cop cars to last her a lifetime.

Things didn't stop there, either. Betty was almost immediately introduced to Stiles' best friend: Scott McCall. Scott was much quieter than Stiles, but he was just as appreciative. He had no car of his own, and often had to borrow his mother's, so when Stiles picked Scott up for the first time, Betty had the pleasure of hearing Scott talk about how awesome she was for nearly an hour.

It didn't take long for things to turn sour, however. Betty often listened to the police scanner in the background when she was bored. If anything interesting came up, she'd turn it on to alert Stiles. He hadn't quite figured out how that happened, yet, and she liked to keep it that way. One night, she picked up chatter about a body in the woods and quickly turned the sound up to full blast to awaken a sleeping Stiles…

Nothing was the same after that. Suddenly, Betty became the host to a dozen different things she didn't particularly care for. Something had happened to Scott. Something terrible. Sometimes he lost control and dug his sharp claws into Betty's seats. Stiles would be out during all hours of the night and often drive tired. Betty had to save him from crashing on more than one occasion.

Then there came Derek Hale.

Derek bled and oozed all kinds of God-knows-what all over Betty's seats. He had zero respect for her and once stepped in front of her so abruptly that she didn't even wait for Stiles to hit the brakes before stopping. Derek abused Stiles by slamming his head on her steering column. His incessant demands ruined Stiles' sleep schedule. He was a good-for-nothing and Betty regretted not running him over.

But, for some reason, Stiles _liked_ that wolfish asshole. He'd spend a few minutes after leaving the Hale house with his forehead pressed against the steering wheel and mutter things to himself. Betty hated listening in. She knew nothing good could come from it—especially since he sounded so frustrated.

Some nights he would speak out loud—just let out every unspoken thought about Derek, stroke her dashboard afterward, and thank her for listening.

Betty hated those nights because there was nothing she could do about them. She liked the fifteen year plan for Lydia much better.

* * *

Derek's Camaro never had a name. He'd never really bothered to give her one. To him, she'd always been his Camaro. She never needed anything else. He kept her well-maintained since the day he ordered her custom-made from the factory line. She had been made specifically for him. No one could handle her the way he could.

At some point, she began referring to herself as Cam, for short. When Derek lived on his own outside of California, she had no use for a name—but once Derek moved to Beacon Hills, it was time to reinvent herself.

Beacon Hills was by no means a podunk little town. It had a mall, after all. Yet Cam couldn't help but get the feeling that no other vehicle in the vicinity was as nice as she. Sure, she'd seen a Porsche skidding around town and a few expensive SUVs but no one shone the way she did. She was proud of her luster, and she was proud of Derek.

She watched Derek grow up. Derek, who had been a shut-in and drowned himself in self hatred, now had a family again. Cam didn't mind giving rides to the fresh beta werewolves. They always displayed a sense of awe when they sank into her plush leather seating. Her seat warmers never grew too hot. In the cold northern California air, they were always just right. Cam knew how to treat her guests properly.

Derek repaid her in kind with frequent waxings and he always, always kept an eye out for the weather. Never once did Cam need her windows scraped free of ice. Derek always found a way. She respected that.

Cam never thought of herself as spoiled or lucky. She was just Cam. She made sure Derek got to where he needed to go quickly and efficiently and Derek made sure Cam was in perfect condition. If he whispered sweet nothings to her as he changed her oil manually, she never told anyone.

No, Cam loved Derek, even if he occasionally became mixed up with a couple of humans. For a high class Camaro like Cam, all she had ever known were werewolves. To have someone like Stiles ride in her car, it was like taking a step backwards on the evolutionary scale. She didn't trust him. He wasn't the same kind of creature as Derek. That, and the way Stiles continued to make Derek's hackles rise made Cam's engines grow hot. Who did that kid think he was?

Someone who drove a beat up old Jeep shouldn't get close to Derek. Cam was overprotective of him.

So overprotective, in fact, that when Derek began following that awful Jeep home under the pretext that he was just making sure Stiles got home okay, Cam had half a mind to break down in the middle of the road. Derek didn't need to check up on Stiles. The kid's dad was the Sheriff, after all. He didn't need any help.

But Cam was powerless to stop him. She couldn't stop him from checking up on the kid any more than she could stop him from pounding on her steering wheel as he reprimanded himself over and over again.

"Don't do this, Derek. He's seventeen. What the hell is wrong with you?"

_Yeah_, Cam wanted to interject. _What the hell was wrong with him_? The kid drove an outdated car for heaven's sake.

She just wanted the excitement to start up again. She wanted to get into a race with someone. When would that start up again?

* * *

The only reason Betty knew Valentine's Day was approaching was because Stiles wouldn't shut up about it. She didn't mind, really, at least he was talking about something other than werewolves. The problem with Valentine's Day this year seemed to be that chocolate and flowers were turning into boring clichés of the past and if Stiles hoped to have a Valentine this year, he was going to have to be clever.

Personally, Betty didn't mind one way or the other. Chocolates had a tendency to melt all over her seats and flowers got pesky pollen everywhere. They smelled nice, at least, and they beat the awful foil balloons that obstructed Stiles' view and threatened to kill them both. Betty secretly hoped Stiles would stick with stuffed animals or some jewelry. He'd already driven her all over town and in and out of various stores. Her gas mileage was suffering.

Betty's wheels nearly screeched to a halt when Stiles pulled up to the last store. She'd never been to that particular place before, but that wasn't what stopped her.

Parked just outside the front door was a very familiar, and very stuck up black Camaro. Betty recognized the license plate immediately.

"Come on, Betty. Don't crap out on me, now. I just gave you a tune-up!" Stiles coaxed from his seat. Betty pulled forward carefully and came to a gentle stop just next to the Camaro. She thought about putting herself into neutral just to roll away. She could feel the Camaro leering at her.

Stiles killed her engine and stepped out of the vehicle. Betty instinctively locked her doors as he stepped into the store. The unusual store front was distracting enough that Betty didn't have to deal with the powerful presence of Derek's Camaro.

The front of the store looked like someone had forgotten about it for years and only just recently remembered to paint it. The colors didn't match and the job had been hasty so bits of the old coloring poked through the thin paint. Betty could just make out, "Mr. Hopewell's Hope Well," written in the kind of font ghost town general stores would be proud of. The front window of the shop sported an abundance of Valentine's Day décor and held so many different shades of red and sparkles that if Betty turned her headlights on, she'd probably blind every carbon based life form in a one mile radius.

Betty wished it were possible for her to communicate with other cars. Usually the driver did all the communicating. When cars were parked, they were stuck in a bubble of awkward silence. All Betty could take away from the Camaro was that her presence demanded she be heard.

Automobiles communicated a kind of personality to each other that proved to be their ultimate basis for expression. Once Betty found herself parked next to an old Cadillac covered in bumper stickers. It had been a well-traveled and well-cared for car and it had been through a lot—much more than Betty had, werewolves included. Another time, at the supermarket, Stiles parked Betty next to a dainty Volkswagen Beetle with a Hello Kitty steering wheel cover. It was so cute and Betty felt so giddy afterward her speedometer malfunctioned and Stiles almost received a speeding ticket on the way home.

Derek's Camaro didn't give Betty any of these wonderful, elated feelings. She only felt shabby and old by comparison. Her radio was out of date and her air conditioner probably didn't get quite as cold. Betty wanted nothing more than for Stiles to hurry out of the weird store and get them both the hell out of there.

Just what was that silly boy doing, anyway? Betty brought her attention to the interior of the shop to check up on her caretaker and immediately wanted to recoil on herself.

Stiles' hands were flapping around more than what was absolutely necessary. The shopkeeper, a stooped old man with glasses that magnified his eyes, watched Stiles with a kind of careful fear. There were a lot of breakable items in the shop and the owner no doubt assumed Stiles' enthusiasm would shatter many of the objects on the shelves.

Derek, of course, did not show as much enthusiasm. If anything, he looked absolutely mortified to have been caught in the same shop as Stiles. Both boys were taking extra care to hide their purchases from each other, which seemed a near impossible feat. The shopkeeper kept winking at them as he wrapped their individual items but the action must have been missed by both Derek and Stiles because they refused to look anywhere else but the ceiling. It would have been hilarious if it hadn't been so awkward.

When Stiles burst from the shop door, the bell overhead tinkling merrily, Betty was relieved. He wasted no time in reversing Betty from her parking spot and tearing down the street. Betty didn't even look behind her at the smooth Camaro in the parking lot. All she wanted to do was to put as much distance between the two of them as possible. Derek and Stiles may have had a strange relationship, but that didn't mean their vehicles had to, too.

"Ugh!" Stiles grunted, slamming the back of his head on the headrest the moment they came to a stoplight. "I knew the moment I saw that stupid car outside, I shouldn't have gone in. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Of course it wasn't Boyd or Isaac driving. Of course! Like Derek would ever let them drive his precious baby."

Stiles continued to drum his fingers on Betty's steering wheel as they waited for the light to turn green. The idle time caught all of Stiles' frustrations to come pouring out. His glance shifted momentarily to the bag sitting on the passenger seat and he swallowed, hard. "And now, I found the perfect present and I can't even give it to Derek because he knows where it came from. I shouldn't have bought anything. Good job, Stiles. Now I'll have to give it to someone else and everything will turn into a giant mess and why the hell does the world have to suck so hard?"

Betty wished she could answer, but the stoplight chose that time to turn green and Stiles' foot shifted to the accelerator. The rest of the ride home was relatively quiet, with the occasional embarrassed moan from Stiles. He didn't even turn the radio on.

When he went inside, he didn't even bring the bag from 'Mr. Hopewell's Hope Well' inside. He left it cold and alone on Betty's passenger seat.

Betty knew, even without Stiles saying so, that she needed to keep an eye on the present. He would change his mind eventually, and he apparently went through a lot to get it, even though it didn't seem like much to her. Betty locked her doors and kept an eye on the package through Stiles' absence. It would be there for him in the morning.

Even if, for some strange reason, it felt the need to vibrate with increasing intensity.

* * *

Cam had never been happier for Derek's apartment accommodations. When Derek lived in the ruins of the old Hale House, Cam had had to settle for leafy roads and shady overhangs. Derek soon moved to the even more desolate ruins of an old subway station, and Cam's resting place hadn't gotten much better. The dust and grime that accumulated on her frame clashed horribly with her paint job, thus increasing the amount of washes she required.

The actual washing itself wasn't a horrible thing—what made the process unbearable was the amount of time that happened in between baths. Derek was a busy wolf, especially under a full moon. He didn't have as much free time as Cam would have liked for him to give her the maintenance she so desperately wanted. Oh, he did enough—but not enough to sate her upped standards.

The covered garage for the building of flats seemed to change Cam's opinion of Derek's housing choices. Having an actual living quarters with an actual garage cheered Cam up to no end.

In fact, she was so happy to be in the covered garage that she didn't even mind Derek's level of broodiness seemed off the charts that day. He drove a little more aggressively, which she appreciated, and he'd tossed a bag into her backseat that seemed to radiate a very pleasant aura of warmth. Cam had become a host for a variety of mythical objects before, including aconite and some charms. She wasn't a stranger to magic, so the thought that Derek was transporting yet another trinket didn't register on her radar at all.

She was just looking forward to a slight nap in the garage while Derek muttered incoherent nonsense under his breath. She heard the name Stiles every so often but at this point, the name was so common while Derek was alone, that she'd learned to just ignore it.

So when Derek left her alone, she thought nothing of it. When he left the package from that awful store in her backseat, she didn't obnoxiously refuse to lock her doors to make sure he remembered it. She just let it sit in the backseat and warm her a little from the inside out. It was comforting in a strange way. Pulsating and inviting, as if he'd bought the present just for her…

She'd never felt so relaxed…

And then, rather abruptly, Cam woke up.

It was a strange feeling because there was darkness first, and then there was light. Something like that had never happened before. Cam's headlights were always open. She wasn't one of those models that involved motorized headlights that poked their eyes out over the hood. Her eyes were always open.

The ground floor of the garage was another sensation. It was generally cold under her tires, but now she could feel it on her underside as well, as if someone had removed her tires and set her entire frame on the floor itself. Startled, Cam jerked forward and tried honking her horn.

…except, the noise that she heard sounded nothing like her horn at all. It was high and melodic and throaty. It sounded a little too human for comfort. Had Derek replaced the short for her horn with something so sinister as the voice of a human girl?

Slowly, the rest of her body began to come into realization. Her proportions were off. There was something strange happening to her front grill. It was like she was tasting the world around her and it wasn't at all pleasant. The only thing that felt slightly familiar to her was a warm, pulsating beat in the middle of her body. The package. She still had it in her backseat.

Only now, there was no backseat for her to look into. She was smaller—much smaller, and distinctly not car shaped. She flexed her fingers and her shoulders, trying to propel herself forward but found that without the use of tires, she needed to find another way to move.

It was scary how much instinct kicked in. She could pick herself upward. The sensation was strange. As a Camaro, she could move only forward, backward or sideways—always running along the world at a plane. As a human, she could break that barrier and reach into the third dimension. She could raise or lower herself at will. So many joints and directions! And so graceful!

She would have been freaking out if she hadn't spent nearly her entire life around magic and werewolves. Being a girl was uncomfortable and cold. She had nothing on save for a necklace around her neck. The pendant rested nicely across her breasts and she glanced downward to catch it in the light.

It was a double headed wolf pendant made from what looked like stainless steel. The sweeping wolf heads made the shape of an 'S' and even though it radiated a welcoming kind of warmth, it still felt cool under her fingers. Why would Derek be transporting jewelry like this? It was, without a doubt, from the store they were at only hours ago.

Cam tugged at the cord around her neck, trying to pull the necklace off by breaking the line, but it held fast. She attempted to lift it up, over her head, but it wouldn't fit. It was stuck on her unless someone else cut it off, or burned it off or something. Cam let out a low grumble that used to happen when her engine idled, but now it came off as hopelessly less metallic. She was going to have to go to Derek and get his help in removing the charm.

No harm done. Easy fix. She'd be back as a Camaro in no time.

With shaking legs, but a strong resolve, Cam stood up carefully. How did humans walk with such tiny rims at the ends of their tire rods? She could hardly keep her balance and wound up shuffling to the nearest car just to hold herself up. Unfortunately, the owner of the car decided it was a good idea to install a car alarm and it went off, loudly.

Cam recoiled, quickly. She'd never touched another car before. For as long as she existed, she'd shared the roads and parking lots with cars of every shape, size and color, but never before had she touched one. To touch another car was the worst of signs. No one wanted a dent or their paint scraped. Accidents were to be avoided at all costs. Touching another car felt intimate and wrong and Cam allowed herself to be startled to the ground, again.

She heard footsteps—probably the owner of the car. Their heavy footsteps echoed loudly in the cement garage and forced Cam to look around desperately for a place to hide. She needed Derek, not some stranger. Only Derek would understand.

The car alarm shut off, leaving Cam's ears ringing. She placed both her hands to her head, annoyed with the pain that bounced around inside it. How did humans do it? The peace was quickly interrupted by a sudden, frantic voice.

"Oh my god, ma'am. Are you okay? Are you hurt? What are you doing out here?"

Cam squinted. Seeing with her new eyes was difficult, and with the ache in her head, it only made vision worse. She did not recognize the speaker. She hadn't quite figured out how to simulate speech, yet—just to make the strange guttural noises, so she backed up on the cold cement floor, keeping her distance.

"Woah," the man said. He had to have been a man. The scruffiness of his face reminded her of Derek, and he didn't posses the enlarged breasts like she had. Only humans would need two genders. "You must be tripping out. Can I… take you somewhere? The police station, maybe?"

No. She couldn't go to the Sheriff. Not him. He was not a fan of Derek. He would not understand. She opened her mouth and did her best to make a sound. All that came out was a wailing noise, but at least she figured out how to forcefully speak.

The man frowned. "Do you speak English?" He said, slowly, deliberately. Cam grew frustrated.

She formed the word with her mouth before she spoke it. She knew how language worked; she'd been living with Derek her whole life. She had a manual written in several human languages. She'd just never been given the opportunity to speak it herself. It wasn't something one could do instinctively. "Ewwrrik." She said, and then frowned. She'd missed a sound in there, somewhere. "Terrik."

"Terrik?" the man repeated.

Cam shook her head. "Derek," she tried again. There. That wasn't so hard. D's and T's were so strange and so close together, but once the difference was made, the human pallet was interesting.

"Derek?" The man asked, scratching the hair on his chin. "Oh, like, the dude that just moved in, right? Broody, sweet Camaro…" his expression changed, suddenly. "Did he hurt you? What did he do to you? I'll call the cops, don't think I won't."

"NO." The word came out so quickly and forcefully that Cam was a little surprised at herself. "Derek will help."

"Do you know where he lives? I've only seen him screech in here on that Camaro of his."

Cam nodded, trying not to glow a little in pride at the guy's obvious envy of her. If he only knew! He extended an arm to her and after a brief moment of hesitation, she took it. She'd always thought she was lucky. What if the first person she'd met had been hostile? What if he'd tried to take advantage of her? Cam knew what happened in darkened parking lots at night. She'd seen firsthand what men were capable of—

And suddenly the hand was ripped from hers and Cam's ears were filled with the sounds of car alarms, again. When she opened her eyes, the man was slammed up against his car, head rolling. Attached to his neck was a dark, familiar hand.

Derek Hale.

Thank god.

"What the hell did you do with my car?!" Derek shouted angrily at the dazed man. His eyes were threatening to flash red. Cam wondered briefly if she should warn him.

"Nothing man," the stranger gasped. "I just came to turn off my alarm and this chick was here."

Derek glanced briefly at her and sniffed in her general direction. Her apparent nakedness had no effect on him. Something in her scent must have startled him, because his grip on the stranger loosened. The car alarm stopped for a second time.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Cam swallowed, trying to figure out how to tell him. Words were difficult, still. How did one make the 'R' sound? And the 'TH' was still a mystery to her. Instead, she held her hand up to grip the pendant around her neck. Derek's eyes widened and he let go of the stranger immediately in favor of stalking over to Cam and tugging on the cord around her neck. It didn't break, much to her dismay. "Where did you get this?"

Once he was loosed, the stranger scrambled away, muttering something about that being the last time he acted like a good Samaritan. Cam ignored him in favor of Derek's hazel eyes. She'd never seen them this close, before. The world was getting heavy. Her head was pounding from the onslaught of car alarms and new sensations. Now that she had Derek again she felt safe. Derek would know what to do. He was smart. He could put two and two together.

The only thing she could do was say his name once more out loud before she let the darkness consume her again. Somehow, sleeping without headlights felt like actual rest.

* * *

Betty woke up to the sound of the garage door opening. The sensation was not new. The Sheriff must be coming home from another late night. The first streaks of dawn shone through the open garage door and Betty welcomed the cool morning air. She could hear the birds outside chirping after their morning breakfast and a wonderfully fresh scent filled her—her what.

Wait. What?

There was no patrol car waiting for her when the garage door opened. There was only Stiles.

"THE HELL IS THIS?"

What.

"THE HELL ARE YOU?"

What?

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY JEEP?"

_What_?

Betty took a chance to really bring herself into the present. The present currently consisted of her sitting in a pile of fast food wrappers in the middle of the garage floor, completely naked with a wolf figurine around her neck. Huh. Well.

Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note**: Thank you for the kind words. I'm having too much fun with this story! I didn't realize anyone would actually want to read a Jeemaro WIP.

* * *

The first thing that registered in Betty's mind was that the floor was freezing and human skin was absolutely terrible for insulation. The second thing she realized was that it had been a while since Stiles had filled her tank up with gas. As a car, she generally felt uncomfortable. As a human, her insides decided it would be a grand idea to churn around and make beautiful noises. So before she could really answer any of Stiles' questions, her stomach growled. Loudly.

Any anger or annoyance that Stiles displayed immediately wiped itself from his face. Apparently having a naked and hungry girl in one's garage drastically changed one's point of view.

"Are you... homeless or something? Stealing unsuspecting cars to sell on the black market so you can get food? I have all kinds of weapons around here and I know how to use all of them so… if you're some crazy… lady… thing, I warn you. I can handle myself."

Something new bubbled up from inside Betty and before she could stop herself, her mouth opened wide and a loud guffaw escaped. She knew she was laughing but to actually experience it was something for the record books.

Stiles was not nearly as impressed with her newfound ability to make her diaphragm explode. He flapped his arms at his sides and looked genuinely dejected. "Oh come on, I can so defend myself. Against a naked girl, even. Can you just… can you cover yourself? Please?"

Betty looked down at her new body and realized that maybe she was sitting in a rather open fashion. She closed her legs and in doing so, Stiles seemed to calm down a lot and stopped shifting so much. She needed to explain herself. He needed to explain himself. There was a lot of explaining that needed to go on and Betty had no idea where to even begin.

Stiles, though, had different plans. Betty should have known he'd know what to do. He'd always been so resourceful. Scattered around Betty were several lacrosse sticks and even a blanket. She recognized the items from behind her hatch. It seemed that when whatever-it-was turned her human, she'd lost most of the contents of her trunk.

Sort of.

She reached a hand around to feel her derriere. It was quite squishy, plump and pillow-y. Stiles had a bony bottom. If a human like herself sat in her seats, Betty wouldn't mind at all.

"Aw, jeez, what are you doing, now?" Stiles groaned. He'd been sorting through the debris that littered the garage floor and tossed her a blanket. "Cover yourself up. If you're not going to kill me or eat my brains or flesh or whatever, the least you can do is make yourself decent. I'm going to make some phone calls and report my poor Betty missing and you get to sit around and wait for my dad to get home. He's the Sheriff, you know." He said his father's elected position in a threatening tone-as if it should illicit some kind of conditioned fear response in Betty. She just stared at him. He rolled his eyes. "Don't go anywhere."

He picked up his phone to make a call, but before he could, it started buzzing in his hand and he answered it, awkwardly.

"Yo."

Betty couldn't hear the voice from the other line, but it made Stiles' face pale.

"Derek?"

Ugh. Betty took the blanket and buried her face in it. She didn't want to see or hear this.

"Yeah, I've got a bit of a problem here, too. My Je—What? …. Are you serious?" Stiles' jaw went slack and he stopped talking. Betty stole a glance at him only to find that he was staring intently at her. With a shaking hand he tugged a little at the blanket. Instinctively, Betty pulled back, but not before exposing the necklace she was wearing. "She's wearing a necklace all right. But it's not what I bought in that store. I mean, well, it kind of looks like it… but it's not. I didn't buy a necklace, you know? I don't… psh… I don't buy jewelry. Who does that? It could have been for Lydia, shut up."

Suddenly Stiles' face crunched up and he pulled the phone hard away from his ear. Betty had no trouble hearing Derek on the other end. "JUST SHUT UP. STILES, THAT'S YOUR JEEP."

"Whaaat? No, it's not," Stiles said in disbelief. He raised his eyebrows at Betty. "Are you my Jeep?"

Betty nodded, feeling very much relieved to not have to try talking herself.

"Bullshit," Stiles frowned. "These girls are obviously from some scheme to steal our totally awesome cars. You sure they're not part of the alpha pack?" He glanced quickly at Betty, came to a decision, and then hit a button on his phone.

Suddenly, Betty could hear Derek much better. "—doesn't smell like a wolf, Stiles. I swear, this is my car standing in my living room."

"Well, shit, is she hot?"

"Stiles!"

"Alright, alright. Listen I'll just dr—I mean you can just pick us— … crap. We'll meet up somewhere. Do I have to walk? Not having a car sucks." He dropped his voice a little and leaned in toward Betty. "No offense."

Betty waved off the comment. She was still in a state of shock, herself. Then again, it wasn't like cars could really harbor that many emotions. Having a human form filled her with so many different feelings, she wasn't sure she could cope properly. All she could do was sit and stare alternatively at Stiles and her fingers. She flexed them in front of her face and wiggled them around. Fingers were so odd… and they couldn't turn. Everything had a texture to it. The blanket was fluffy. The ground was smooth. Her skin was soft. Stiles' pants were rough. Stiles batted her hand away eventually.

"Peter has a car. We will be there soon."

"My dad is supposed to be home, soon!"

Derek growled from the other line and then let out a long sigh. "Then how do you feel about pancakes?"

* * *

Sitting in the passenger seat of Peter Hale's car was the latest in a series of the most awkward moments in Cam's existence. She could get over touching another car, but sitting _inside_ of one? Things like that didn't just happen.

She tucked her hands into the sleeves of one Derek's shirts. It was large and felt more like a dress to her than anything, but she was appreciative. The sleeves flopped helplessly on her knees but she enjoyed the feeling of the extra fabric. It gave her mind something to focus on now that she was trying hard not to think about the engine at her feet or the heat blowing in her face. She kept the air vents pointed away from her because even the softest rush of air was trying to make her sick.

Really, humans had all kinds of unknown chemistry going on in their bodies. How could one possibly catch up with all of that in a matter of hours? She'd already experienced the human's version of waste disposal. It hadn't been fun. At all. There were so many rules involved and Cam wanted nothing more than to hide her face in the bathroom until Derek figured everything out for her and turned her back into her beautiful vehicle self.

At least he'd been understanding. When he brought her inside, he'd helped her into some clothing because when she woke up, she was covered up and lying on the couch. The workout shorts he gave her were still too big, even with the drawstring completely tightened, but it beat the cool air hitting her flesh.

Derek had no women in his life now that Erica was gone. When he moved to the new bachelor pad, he'd rid himself of everything related to previous pack members. This meant, of course, no shoes except obnoxiously sized flip flops. Cam needed to change back to her former glory. Now. Clothes were easily the most ridiculous human invention, yet.

Her speech had improved, though. In the wee hours of the morning, she sat with Derek and calmly went over some of the finer points of their predicament. They'd already come to the conclusion that the pendant Derek bought at 'Mr. Hopewell's Hope Well' was the cause for Cam's transformation. They just needed to see if, well, if Stiles found himself in a similar situation.

Derek hadn't wanted to call the younger boy at all, but Cam insisted. She pressed him so urgently that she almost felt as though she were pulling the puppet strings, herself, forcing him to dial the number.

It had been worth it, because Stiles happened to be in the same situation, and now they were en route to his house to pick them up for, what had Derek said? Pancakes?

"Derek," Cam said quietly, breaking the tense silence. She needed a better distraction than her own mind. "Why are we going to have pancakes?"

Derek stole a glance in her direction. He did that a lot in the few short hours she'd been human. She had no idea if she was going to get used to it or not. She had seen Derek plenty of times in plenty of situations. She'd seen him at his best and at his worst. Why should he feel the need to look so ashamed and awestruck at the same time? He turned into a wolf for heaven's sake. Surely he could get over a shape-shifting car. It wasn't even her fault, anyway.

"You need to eat," he said calmly, head turning back to the front windshield. "And we need to go somewhere safe to figure this all out."

"By eating pancakes? In public?" Cam asked. Her voice rose softly at the end, signifying her question. She'd learned that little trick early on, what with all the questions she had. Cam was a fast learner.

"If someone did this to you, they might be watching our residences. No one will attack us in a public place," said Derek.

Cam stared blankly at her driver. "Are you saying someone is after you?"

"I have many enemies."

"So they get to you through your car," Cam deadpanned. It sounded even more ridiculous when she said it out loud. Leave it to Derek to be paranoid. What good would turning cars into humans do? How could that possibly leave Derek weak? Her driver could run on all fours faster than a human on a bicycle. He probably wasn't all that inconvenienced by Cam's sudden two-legged-ness. Stiles on the other hand… maybe.

"There could be other motives," defended Derek. Cam let the subject drop. She played with the ends of her sleeves, again so that her fingers poked out of the holes and she could brush her hair behind her ears. She'd had the chance to look at herself, earlier, in the mirror of Derek's bathroom.

By human standards, she was pretty, she supposed—if one was attracted to organic material. Her hair was a dark brown that fell in waves past her shoulders. She tried running a comb through it but there was too much hair to get through and Derek only had a small black hair comb. She had to leave it in uneven tangles, and for some reason that bothered her. As a car, she was slick, smooth and beautiful. Pristine. As a human, she felt less so. She was petite and her eyes were too brown—too wide.

She'd watched Erica transform from her pale, tangled former self into that of a colorful werewolf. She knew firsthand that women painted their faces to look beautiful. Hell, she had makeup mirrors installed under her sun visors for that purpose exactly. She wondered if she could do that—if she could make herself look beautiful again. After all, who knew how long she was going to be stuck in this sticky, breathing body.

Soon Stiles' house came into view and Derek pulled up to the curb in front and put the car into park.

"Wait here," he said quickly. Before he even gave Cam a chance to respond, he was out the door and half-jogging toward the front door of the Stilinski house. Cam folded her arms across her chest and blew a stray strand of hair away from her face in frustration. She was fully capable of going with him.

What was his deal? He was micromanaging everything. Cam had half a mind to go after him. After all, Derek was just standing awkwardly outside the front door. Cam almost thought he would go around to the back and scale the wall. He'd done it, before.

A half a minute later, the front door opened and Stiles stepped outside, holding the hand of a young woman in a hoodie and oversized jeans. Her hair was cropped short and a dirty blond, but Cam sat too far away to see the color of her eyes. Not that it mattered, of course. Cam knew who she was: the Jeep.

Suddenly, the Jeep's eyes widened and her face went slack. She immediately huddled herself behind Stiles, who placed a protective arm around her. Derek stole a glance behind him, his eyes meeting briefly with Cam's. She gave him an indignant look that said, _It wasn't me_.

The Jeep leaned forward and whispered something into Stiles' ear and Stiles almost laughed, but then he stopped himself. Instead, he held onto his Jeep's shoulders and rubbed her back, steering her gently toward the car. The entire time she looked increasingly uncomfortable while Stiles' mouth moved in a soothing fashion. Derek looked more pissed off than usual.

When they got to the car, Stiles and his Jeep climbed into the backseat where she huddled herself against Stiles like he was a lifeline. Cam wasted no time in turning around in the front seat and barking out, "What's her problem?"

Stiles gave her a dirty look. "You must be the Camaro. I'm not sure what I expected."

Cam opened her mouth to snap back at him, but Derek chose that time to get into the car. "No fighting you two. This is weird enough already."

"Oh, like going to IHOP is going to make this any less normal," Stiles muttered.

"Shut up, Stiles," said Derek. He snapped his head toward Cam, who was still facing the rear of the vehicle. "Seat belt, Cam."

"You're not wearing one."

"I can heal. You can't."

Cam scowled and put on her seatbelt. There was an audible snicker from the backseat.

"Cam? Seriously?"

Cam ignored Stiles in favor of glaring at Derek. "Can I punch him?"

Derek didn't bother hiding his ghost of a smile. "You'll learn to restrain yourself."

* * *

Once Stiles and Betty got over the initial shock of their situation, they seemed to fit together very well. So well, in fact, that Stiles became more like a doting big brother even though he was clearly younger than her. She wasn't physically seventeen years old like him, but she did wonder briefly if cars aged differently. Was there such a thing as car years like there were dog years? When Betty looked at herself in the mirror for the first time, she had to gauge herself at about twenty, which was awesome. She generally felt a little older than that at times, especially when Stiles was having a particularly adolescent day. Perhaps Stiles kept her young.

"So," Stiles had said, after he showed her the basics of the shower. He acted as though he found anthropomorphic vehicles in his garage every day. It was actually quite nice on Betty's shiny new nervous system. "Now you're all squeaky clean and fresh! How do you feel?"

Betty just smiled at Stiles and gave him a thumbs-up. She'd been communicating with him nonverbally since she woke up. It wasn't that she thought speech was hard—it's just that she wanted to try speaking on her own, maybe when Stiles wasn't around to hear. It was embarrassing, trying to figure out speech for the first time. She'd hummed a little to herself in the shower to get a feel for her vocal chords, but the acoustics of the bathroom seemed to magnify everything and it left her more tongue-tied than before.

"You can wear some of my old stuff. I've been meaning to give these to Goodwill, but, you know, lazy. Sudden growth spurts are awesome," Stiles said, handing her a pile of clothes. He'd probably intended to just leave her alone in the bathroom to fend for herself, but after she squeaked a little from putting the hoodie on the wrong way, Stiles took a deep breath and helped her dress.

For Betty, this wasn't any different than Stiles giving her a car wash, or giving her a fresh coat of wax. She gave Stiles free reign, never once assuming he felt awkward for human indecency. Humans weren't born with clothes on, were they?

Once she'd been fully clothed, Stiles helped her from the bathroom to the living room. She was still a little wobbly on her legs, but she'd gotten the hang of it.

"Okay," said Stiles, sizing her up. "If you're going to be human for a while, we're going to have to get you humanized—especially if Derek's going to be here in a little bit to take us out for pancakes. You ready?"

Betty nodded.

"Sweet. First thing's first," he said. He let go of her arm and she nearly lost her balance. She shot him a look of betrayal, but Stiles only shook his head. The devil. "You need to walk on your own. I know you had some sweet tires before, but feet aren't all that bad." He backed up a little and held out his arms. "Walk to me."

Betty stared hard down at her feet and willed them to move. Her center of gravity had changed drastically, but after holding onto every grip possible in the shower, it gave her a chance to get used to the change. She held her arms out to keep her balance and only fell once she was close enough to Stiles' arms.

"There! That wasn't so bad!" Stiles ruffled her hair. "You're like a big kid. This is so awesome. What else can you do?"

Betty pulled back from his grasp and gave him a foul look that clearly said, _don't patronize me_. Stiles grinned widely at her. Betty warded off his incoming mockery by wobbling over to the other side of the room and giving him the finger. She knew that sign by heart thanks to Stiles' wonderful road rage.

And yet, she couldn't stay mad at him. Stiles was all she had. He was her best friend and she trusted him. He hadn't steered her wrong, literally, and she knew he could keep up the responsibility.

So when Derek knocked on the door and Stiles started to get nervous about it, Betty reached out her hand to grasp Stiles by the wrist to let him know everything was okay. He shifted his arm so that they were holding hands and in that moment Betty knew Stiles would get her out of this mess. He tugged her toward the door where Derek was waiting and-

-and Betty froze.

Waiting for her was Derek, of course, but also a very, very familiar car. Betty had only been in one car accident that involved another vehicle (not counting the time Stiles purposely crashed her into a warehouse wall, but they didn't talk about that—especially since she had a wonderful, illuminating view of Jackson's everything. They _really_ didn't talk about that night). Once a car hit another car, they never forgot it—and Peter Hale's car was definitely something Betty would have liked to forget.

It had just been a fender-bender. Stiles was trying to save Scott's mom. Betty understood that. The violation of crashing into another car just left ugly scars all over her, even if Stiles spent good money to have the scratches removed. She clung hard to Stiles out of instinct.

"I can't," she said desperately, trying to keep her voice quiet because Derek was staring harshly at her.

It was the first time she'd said anything and Stiles gave her a wide-eyed look. She knew he wanted her to speak more, but she couldn't do it. She was surprised she'd even made it that far. Would he put two and two together? Would he remember?

He probably didn't, because he did his best to calm her fears and shove her into the car anyway. Almost immediately, Betty lost her appetite.

She didn't say anything the entire way to the restaurant. She didn't need to, apparently. Cam and Stiles were too busy learning everything there was to know about getting on each other's nerves.

Cam turned out to be everything Betty thought she would be. She was beautiful and arrogant and snarky and demanded to be heard. She had the exact intimidating presence that she held in the parking lot of that shady store. Derek grumbled as he drove and radiated an aura of hostility and Stiles' grip on her hand in the backseat was so strong it was borderline painful.

Betty wanted out of there.

In fact, the minute Derek pulled up to the restaurant, Betty unbuckled her restraining seatbelt faster than was absolutely necessary. She was a bit dizzy, probably from the dreaded combination of confusion, anger, fear and hunger. She needed a lot of things and none of them were happening. The least she could do was get out of the car and get herself some fresh air.

Stiles scrambled out after her and chased her to the front doors of the building.

"You okay?" he asked, out of breath, even for the short distance.

Cam took a deep breath and shook her head. She hugged her arms around herself, grateful for the warmth the hoodie gave her. She looked beyond Stiles to the car that would no doubt continue to haunt her for a while just as Cam stepped out of the passenger seat.

It was like the world slowed down for a moment. Her long, dark brown hair caught in the wind. Betty had seen girls step out of cars before and toss their hair like the world was watching. Cam did exactly that. Betty felt like she was doing exactly what the world wanted her to do, and she looked away immediately. The ceramic wolf pendant that stuck around her neck warmed a little on her bare skin under her clothes. She tried to concentrate on that, instead of Cam. Soon they would be back to normal and she'd never have to actually speak to her.

Once they were inside, they were seated quickly. Derek had been right to suggest a pancake house for their meeting place. It was still early morning and many of the patrons looked just as disheveled as they did. They blended in just fine.

Betty let Stiles order drinks for her, but only because she'd never experienced ordering food before. It wasn't like she could order Pennzoil and unleaded gasoline.

The waitress disappeared with their drink orders and when she was safely out of earshot, Stiles spoke up first. "So, wow, you guys. CARS."

Betty smiled at her driver, just as amused as he. Both Derek and Cam gave him a bored look, however. Stiles didn't seem fazed by it. She always liked that about her driver.

"It's an easy fix, isn't it?" Stiles asked. "I mean, we just take the necklaces off. No big deal."

Derek shook his head. "It's not that easy. The cord won't cut, and it seems impervious to my claws."

"You've tried, already?"

Cam just shrugged. "It's too small to fit over my head, too."

"What about fire?" Stiles suggested.

Betty's eyes widened. Derek shot Stiles a bad look and Cam answered just as casually as ever. "Do you want to risk it?"

Betty thought about how close a flame would have to come to her neck in order to burn off the pendant and shuddered. There had to be another way.

"Hey," Cam said suddenly, nodding from the other end of the table. She was seated across from Betty and they were both pressed against the wall of the booth by their driver's who were seated on the outside. "You have any good suggestions?"

Betty shook her head.

"Can't talk?"

Betty shrugged.

Cam rolled her eyes. "Should have guessed, coming from a Jeep."

Betty opened her mouth to say something, but Stiles beat her to it. "Hey! That's _my_ Jeep you're talking about!"

Cam didn't keep her eyes off Betty for an instant, and Betty wanted nothing more than to sink into the booth and disappear. She felt so big compared to the dark, tiny form of Cam. Actually, Betty felt big compared to most cars, anyway, but as a human it didn't seem to be beneficial.

"What's her name, anyway?" asked Cam. She was looking at Betty but clearly talking to Stiles.

"Betty," Stiles said with an air of pride in his voice. "It sure beats Cam."

"Stiles," Derek interrupted. "You _do_ realize you're fighting with a _car_."

"For all intents and purposes, I'm human right now," Cam offered.

"I think I liked her better as a car," Stiles grumbled.

"Stiles!" Derek looked around him briefly before nodding toward the exit. "A word?"

Stiles' mouth was open in general annoyance and he closed it with a sigh. "Fine," he breathed, shuffling himself out of the booth. He let Betty know he'd be right back with a friendly but mostly apologetic pat on her shoulder and left with Derek outside. Betty watched them go and even watched them fight animatedly outside, with Stiles arms flying everywhere like an octopus.

He'd abandoned her with the Camaro.

A waitress came by with their drinks. Stiles had ordered Betty a hot chocolate and a water. She took a hold of the mug but quickly let go when the ceramic nearly burned her fingers. She was gentler the next time, and sipped the dark liquid slowly. She could feel the chocolate move down her throat and coat her insides and without realizing it, she smiled.

"You don't seem to be taking the change very well," Cam observed. Betty didn't want to have to look at her, so she didn't. She kept her gaze on the swirling chocolate in her mug.

When Betty didn't answer her for a long time, Cam let out an impatient sigh. "Look, what was your name? Betty? I don't like this any more than you do, but I'm trying to make the most of it. I've had enough of Derek moping to last me the life of my transmission. I can't stand moping."

Betty finally stole a look upward at Cam. She was nursing her water and staring intently at Betty as if there was some strange mark on her face. Betty narrowed her eyes at Cam. "I…"

"She speaks!"

"I…" Betty tried again. "I hate you."

The smile that broke out across Cam's face was unsettling. "The feeling is mutual, Jeepy. Glad we got that out of the way. The bottom line is that you and I are going to have to work together to get out of this mess. Are you willing to do that, at least?"

Betty hesitated a little. Couldn't Stiles and Derek just figure it all out and relay the information to her? Why did she even have to deal with this attention whore at all? Still, Betty preferred to have some semblance of camaraderie rather than total hatred, so she nodded in agreement.

"Great," Cam said. "I'm so glad we could settle this better than our boys." She nodded her head toward the windows where Derek practically had Stiles in a chokehold and Stiles was surrendering, both hands in the air. A surge of over protectiveness washed over Betty. She wished she could turn back into a Jeep at will and hit Derek with her car door for treating Stiles like that.

"I know that look," Cam said warily. She kicked her foot forward under the table and it nudged Betty in the shin, causing her head to snap back to Cam quickly. "Don't even think about hurting Derek."

Betty took a deep breath. She'd gotten talking down, but she still had to think about her words to make sure they would be okay once she started saying them. "Then stop hurting my Stiles."

"Fine."

"Fine."

By the time Derek and Stiles came back inside, the waitress had come by twice asking Cam and Betty if they were ready to order. She must have been watching the table like a hawk because once Derek and Stiles came back, she was there, pen in hand and ready to write down their choices.

After the waitress disappeared, Derek began giving Stiles some very obvious eye gestures and Stiles sulked a little, but he responded with a somewhat sincere apology to Cam. Betty hated how smug Cam looked about it and thought about kicking her from under the table, but thought the better of it.

"Did you two come up with anything other than an apology while you were out there?" Cam teased.

Stiles turned a lovely shade of red that Betty didn't miss at all, and Derek quickly answered the question. "We're going to have to look into the matter more."

"As in research," Stiles added. "We're going to go back to that store and see what that guy knows about these things… and I'm going to do some research about symbols and probably ask Allison if she might know something."

"I will talk to Deaton," Derek suggested, his voice low. "But until then, we need to make you two look more… human."

"How much more human do we need to look?" Cam frowned. "I'm more human than you are."

"Clothes," Stiles chirped.

Cam's features seemed to brighten and that actually caught Betty off guard a little bit. For a split second, Cam looked so much less threatening—almost to the point that she was attractive. Betty thought that maybe, even for a little bit, they could be friends if only she looked like that instead of like she was thinking of all the ways she'd rather not be where she was. "And makeup?" Cam asked, her smile widening.

"Sure…" Stiles said slowly. "I guess? I'll probably just… let you two hang with Lydia. That's not really my um… area."

Lydia. She was one of the few girls that had actually had the chance to ride in Betty. Betty liked Lydia, even if she was the source of a lot of angst-filled teenage nights with Stiles. Betty felt she knew more about Lydia than even Lydia knew about Lydia. She was actually looking forward to meeting her as a human. What would she think? Maybe Betty could talk some sense into her—show her that Stiles was a good guy and that she should think about taking him away from Derek. Clearly, the boy's change from Lydia to Derek had been destructive in the sense that it gave Betty blond hair and blue eyes. Life just had to be like that.

Once their food arrived, Betty sat back and let the others do all the talking. She was more focused on the food, anyway. Being away from Peter's car had caused her appetite to return and she found she was rather looking forward to eating. Stiles had ordered her a short stack of buttermilk pancakes, eggs, bacon and hashbrowns. It looked like the most generic thing on the menu, but for her, it was fantastic. Having only had the same kind of petrol her entire life, using her mouth to try a myriad of foods was a sensation and flavor overload.

She poured every kind of syrup imaginable on her pancakes, delighting in the way the purple and red colors swirled together. The crisp, salty taste of bacon contrasted with the toned down and mellow flavor of the eggs, but together everything fit like a puzzle she hadn't realized she'd been building. Slowly, the queasy feeling in her stomach left altogether and the general feeling of uneasiness she'd been harboring began to melt away as well. She felt like when she had an oil change and every pulley, gear and belt under her hood just seemed to work better even though they hadn't been touched.

Confidence poured into her being and soon she began swinging her legs under the table of the booth and humming to herself as she ate. She smiled more. She began paying attention to the conversation, but she'd missed the bulk of it.

"Hey," she said suddenly. Three sets of eyes turned toward her, all amazed to hear her speak so clearly. She found she rather enjoyed the attention. "What are we doing after this, exactly?"

"We're splitting up," Stiles explained. "You and I are going home for research. Derek and Cam are going to Doctor Deaton to see if he's got anything on magic talismans."

"No, I mean, where are we staying?" Betty reiterated. Really, she needed to think her words through. How did Cam just blurt out words and get her point across so easily?

"Oh…" Stiles trailed off and glanced over at Derek. "She can't stay with me… my dad, you know…"

Derek gave Stiles a very pointed look. "My place is too small. I can't have two girls—"

"Oh, nice to know we're such a burden on you. You never had a problem with me, before." Cam rolled her eyes. Betty couldn't help but second the sentiment.

"Look, we'll just… we'll get you a hotel room, okay? Until we can get this all figured out. That way no one gets suspicious." Stiles threw his hands up in the air at the suggestion. The minute he said it, though, he agreed with himself with a firm nod of his head. "Yeah, a hotel room! It's not like you can sleep in the garage or anything, and this way there can no more awkward… naked… things… happening."

Derek nodded a bit as he chewed his food, like he hadn't expected such a good idea to come from Stiles. "There's a motel right by my apartment. I'll see if there's a vacancy."

"A seedy motel?" Cam frowned. She'd seen those before, with old beat up pickups sitting out front. She preferred the four star hotels with gated parking. "I'm glad you think so highly of us."

"It's not seedy," Derek defended.

"It's either a hotel with an actual lobby or your couch. You choose."

Stiles began to snicker and Betty couldn't help herself. She tried to cover her own giggling up with a mouthful of pancakes just to avoid getting any backlash. "Wow, Derek, that's some car you've got there."

Cam actually seemed to take Stiles' comment as a compliment because she built off it. "He's right, you know. I'm a custom model. Don't I deserve a better hotel room?"

Derek clenched his fist so hard, he must have forgotten he was holding a fork because it snapped. Betty jumped in her seat with a little squeak and Cam simply raised her eyebrows at her driver.

"I take it back," Stiles grinned. "This is the best thing to happen, ever. Derek, you get the hotel room. I'll get the check."

Betty took a chance to look up at Cam who was grinning wildly at Betty. Something tugged in Betty's lower gut and she found her face growing hot, but wasn't sure why. It wasn't like she could turn on a sensor saying her radiator was getting too hot. Humans didn't come with manuals. She'd have to file the feeling away for later to ask Stiles when they were alone.

It was going to be a long day.


	3. Chapter 3

Splitting up was the easy part. Getting out of the restaurant was the hard part.

Or rather, Cam noticed, it wasn't so much leaving the pancake house as it was getting Betty back into Peter's car. She really hated it—so much in fact that Stiles offered to either walk home with her or call a cab. Betty was near tears and kept repeating herself like a CD over a speed bump.

"I can't go back in that car. I can't, I can't, I can't," she gasped over and over like a mantra. At first it was slightly annoying, and Cam thought she was just doing it for attention, but after a minute or so of really watching her with Stiles, Cam began to understand. So far, Betty hadn't done anything to call attention to herself—she just refused to ride in this particular car. She didn't have any problems with the other cars in the lot, just Peter's.

She also had a problem with Cam, apparently, but Cam liked to think it was her charming personality that put her off. Then again, Betty put up with Stiles, so that should have said something about her.

Stiles kept going back and forth with trying to calm Betty down and alternatively turning around to scrub at his short hair in frustration. Finally he offered his sleeve to Betty to dry her eyes and just said, "I'll call Scott, okay? He can pick us up in his mom's car."

As soon as he turned around to make a call, Cam swooped in next to Betty.

"Hey," she said, trying to keep her voice light. She bumped her hip against Betty's to show that she wasn't intending to get on her nerves—at least not right then. Betty squeaked a little and took a step back, obviously finding it strange for Cam to be touching her. Stiles was constantly touching her. Why couldn't Cam do it? "You keep saying 'I can't, I can't.' Why?"

Betty sniffed and rubbed the sleeve of her hoodie over her nose and then frowned at the mark on her sleeve like she couldn't believe she was leaking from her face. "I can't ride in that car."

"That dingy old thing?" Cam reiterated this by sneering in the car's general direction. "While I admit it's a sorry excuse for a car, it does do its job. I don't like it any more than you do, but—"

"It's not that," Betty's voice was shaking, like she was trying to keep it even. "That car… I hit it. I've hit that car. He probably got the scratches covered up but…" she shook her head.

All at once, Cam understood. She'd never gotten into a car accident, but she'd seen plenty of them to know she never wanted to go down that route.

It didn't matter that Betty was an outdated Jeep with bad air conditioning and her driver was a moron. No one deserved to feel violated like that. Without even thinking about it, Cam pulled Betty in for a hug. Betty was a little taller than her, but she crumpled easily onto Cam's dark shoulder.

Cam thought that maybe it would be weird, touching another car like this, but they were human. Humans touched each other all the time. They didn't dent or scratch. In fact, hugging was kind of nice and Betty was so soft. Cam felt a little bad for inwardly thinking of Betty as nothing more than a stupid Jeep. She wasn't _all_ bad. Maybe they could come out of this as friends.

Suddenly Betty pulled back with a look on her face that clearly showed she'd only just realized who she'd been hugging. Their eyes caught for a second—just a brief second—but that was all Cam needed. In that second, a moment of understanding passed through the both of them. They were the only people in the world who understood what they were going through right now, and any petty squabbling or previous feelings they'd had for each other had been thrown out the window. Cam knew that the next time they met, there would be no hostility.

Betty was the first to break eye contact because Stiles was calling her name. She gave Cam a weak smile and a wave and quickly made her way over to her driver.

Cam watched them for a moment. Stiles was showing Betty how to use his phone so that she could talk to Scott on the other end. He was excited and bouncing on his heels and it made Betty laugh occasionally. That was good. Laughter was a sign of positive human emotion, right?

Cam had no idea how long she'd been staring. A harrumph from behind her forced her to turn around and face Derek, who was leaning against Peter's car.

"Let's go," he said. "They'll be fine on their own."

"Derek…" Cam's voice trailed off. She had wanted to say something, but was now unsure of how to phrase her thoughts. Derek had been watching Stiles this whole time, she knew that. Even now, he was finding it difficult to keep his attention on her rather than behind her. She'd been there through every single one of Derek's overprotective watchman nights. She'd been on the receiving end of Derek's frustration. She knew. "Derek, it's okay to tell hi—"

"No," Derek cut her off. "No, it's not. And we aren't going to talk about it. Let's go." He sank into the driver's seat with an air of finality to his voice that Cam couldn't refute and shut his door.

Cam took her seat in the passenger's side and buckled in quietly. It wasn't until Derek had pulled out of the parking lot and both Stiles and Betty disappeared from view that Cam spoke up again. "You can't ignore it forever."

"Watch me."

Cam's hand moved absent-mindedly to the pendant around her neck: two wolf-heads in the shape of an 'S.' Derek was so obvious it hurt.

* * *

It was a good thing Deaton's clinic wasn't too far from the pancake house, because if Cam had to sit through five more minutes of awkward silence with Derek, she didn't know if she could take it. Sure, she should have been used to the silences between them, but now that she had a voice, she felt like it was her duty to use it. The problem was that Derek didn't seem to fond of her opinions on anything. It was a bit upsetting, mostly because Cam liked to think she and Derek had a profound bond. He'd always been so caring to her—and now that she had flesh and blood he treated her completely different. She had to bring it up to him; it was just a matter of how.

Derek didn't give her the chance, though, at least not right away. He stomped into Deaton's office and blanched slightly when he came to the front desk—almost like the wood was repelling him. Cam had never actually been inside of Deaton's office before so she found it kind of strange. Did Derek not like desks? He didn't have one in his apartment. Weird.

The vet clinic smelled like wet dog and cat litter—both of which were strangely easy to identify. Derek sometimes had the odor of wet dog when he got caught during a rainy full moon. It was a lovely combination.

Cam hugged her arms around her waist and made herself comfortable by looking at the bulletin board. Various pictures of animals and their smiling owners were stuck to the corkboard with pins. Cam wondered briefly if Derek thought of her like a pet. Surely these people loved their dogs and cats and parakeets very much, but they still didn't hold them on equal standing with them. That's all Cam really wanted from him, wasn't it? To be seen as an equal? To be thanked for all her hard work?

"Good morning, Derek." Doctor Deaton cut through her thoughts with his sudden arrival. Cam stole a side glance at him and watched as he lifted a gate near his desk and Derek suddenly didn't look so apprehensive. "And who is this lovely lady?"

Cam couldn't help but grin. She figured she was lovely. As a Camaro, she was sublime—surely the cosmos would make her human form just as perfect, right?

"This is Cam," Derek said hastily. "Look, we have a bit of a problem and you're the only person I know who can help."

Deaton stole a glance out the front window and then up at the sky. The late morning light lit up the room enough that the lamp in the corner was essentially useless. Cam knew the feeling. Sometimes Derek insisted she have her headlights on during the day, but Cam often felt it was a waste of a perfectly good fuse. "Come into my office, but keep your voices down. We'll have to be quick. I have a scheduled de-clawing today and several appointments. I do have business hours, you know."

"I know. I'm sorry, but this is urgent."

Cam did her best to flash Deaton a charming smile. She had no idea if she accomplished it or not, though, because Deaton quickly ushered them into his office. Cam made a mental note to try and work on her facial expressions in a mirror. It was good reference to know what one looked like with every emotion, right?

Once inside Deaton's office, he lowered the blinds on his door and turned quickly to Cam, "I expect this has something to do with you?"

Cam sighed. "He's really making it sound like I'm some big curse, isn't he?"

Derek looked guilty, which was a good look for him. "Peter's car is inconvenient."

Cam glowed a little. Aw, he missed her.

Deaton didn't look reassured. "I need the whole story, you two. Time is slipping away."

Derek's jaw stiffened and Cam knew that was his business look. He launched himself into the full-scale story of their situation.

His version of the full-scale story was actually only about three sentences. "This is Cam. She used to be my Camaro but we think that necklace turned her human. What can you do?"

Deaton's mouth sort of dropped open a bit, like that wasn't what he was expecting the case to be at all. His eyes immediately moved to the necklace around Cam's neck and she wrapped her fingers around it a little protectively. Being stared at as a human was awkward. She figured she'd be used to it by now considering everyone she'd met had pretty much been staring at her since she'd transformed.

"Okay, so…" Deaton at least had the grace to attempt to remedy this situation. He held out his hand and smiled warmly at Cam. Any kind of impression that Deaton was weird flew out the window. Deaton was an okay guy. Probably the nicest guy she'd met so far. "It's nice to meet you, Cam. I'm sorry about your circumstances. Forgive me if I have… a number of questions."

"I just want everything to go back to normal," Cam reiterated, in case the point was missed, somehow.

"I'm sure we all do," Deaton reassured her with a nod toward Derek. "But before that happens, I need to get a better grasp of the situation, here. Tell me, where did you get the necklace?"

Cam opened her mouth to speak, but Derek beat her to it. "Just a place. It's new and sells antiques or tourist—"

"I need the actual name of the place."

"It was Mr. Hopewell's Hope Well, Dr. Deaton," Cam chimed in. She definitely did not miss the glower Derek gave her. What was so bad about just telling Deaton where it came from?"

"Ah, I see," Deaton said. His voice sounded far away, like he was deep in thought. He moved over to his desk and rummaged through it before pulling out a tiny leather bound notebook. A few quick flips of the yellowing pages only made his face look more confused. "It isn't showing up as a hot spot. Someone must have moved in under the radar."

"So, it's the shop?" Derek asked.

"Maybe," said Deaton. "Although if the only thing it did was turn cars into humans, I have a feeling we would be seeing a lot more on the news. No, I think you're either the first it has affected or the only person it has affected."

"Well…" Cam started but Derek gave her such a strangled look that she stopped out of shock and not because he looked threatening.

"What you're saying here," Derek began hastily. "Is that we need to go to this shop if we want answers or a counter curse?"

"I never said it was a curse," Deaton pointed out. "It could just be a rogue spell or perhaps the shop owner felt he was being helpful?"

Derek scowled. "Meddling isn't helpful."

"Then tell me," Deaton looked genuinely curious. "Why did you buy this item?"

Derek kept his mouth shut and glared hard at Cam to do the same. Cam kind of wanted to yell out the answer for him. Why did he have to be so difficult? If he really wanted her to change back, then he should just tell Deaton the truth and get him to help. Being stubborn certainly wasn't going to change things.

"It was an impulse buy, Dr. Deaton," Cam said at last. Derek's shoulders slumped a little which Cam took as a sign she made the right decision.

"So you were drawn to it," Deaton said, rubbing the side of this face. "That would make sense I guess. Although, what kind of ulterior motive could a shop owner or a magical object have that would require it to transform a car to a human?"

"I don't know," Derek said dryly. "Maybe that's why we're here?"

Deaton didn't let Derek's behavior affect him. It was almost as if he were used to it. Cam wondered what kind of nonsense Derek got up to whenever he came into this office. At least now she had a glimpse of it. Cam thought she knew her driver, but seeing him interacting outside of her was a whole new experience. Perhaps she didn't really know him at all.

"Let me see the necklace," Deaton stepped out from behind his desk and made his way toward Cam. He left his palms in the air, fingers splayed outward as if he were trying to let her know he came in peace. Of course he came in peace. She wasn't an extraterrestrial. She was a car. She didn't bite. Although… now she probably could.

"It won't come off," Cam said. It was the only thing she could think of to say because the advancing Deaton was still a little unnerving, no matter how nice he seemed. "Derek can't even bite it off."

"That does appear to be a problem," Deaton agreed. "Let me try a few things."

Cam exchanged a look with Derek that mostly consisted of fear and uncertainty. Derek obviously trusted the veterinarian with her, so she felt she had no choice but to let him near her.

He was so close. It wasn't uncomfortable, just a little weird. She knew he needed to take a closer look at the pendant, but when his smooth, bald head bobbed around in front of her while he worked, she had no idea how she was supposed to act. Did she stare at the ceiling? Straight down at him? No matter where she looked or how she held herself, she felt nothing but awkward.

Eventually, Deaton pulled back. "It doesn't even look magical," he said with an air of disappointment to his voice, like he hadn't found what he'd hoped. "It's just stainless steel and leather cord. There's nothing special about it. Even the markings seem completely random and I'm a big non-believer in random."

With Deaton at a safer distance, Cam felt like she could breathe again. Had she really been holding her breath? Could she do that? Why would humans have the ability to hold their breath if they needed to breathe to live? Cam was so caught up in the nuances of basic human living that she didn't even realize Deaton had left the room.

He wasn't gone long. In just a few short seconds he was back and brought a small sack with him. The moment Derek's eyes focused on the tiny bag, his nostrils flared and he took a reflexive step back which made Cam nervous. She widened her eyes at Deaton.

"Mountain ash," Deaton explained. "It shouldn't do anything to you if you're fully human. I want to see what it will do to the pendant, however."

Cam swallowed hard. She'd had mountain ash in her trunk, before. She knew it didn't do anything to her as far as being a car was concerned, but now she wasn't metal and wires and oil. She was flesh and blood and… squishy. Instinctively, she turned to Derek for confirmation and he gave her a small nod. That was all she needed. If Derek trusted Deaton with the mountain ash, then so would she.

Tentatively, Cam stepped forward and eyed the bag of mountain ash with suspicion. "What are you going to do?"

"First we'll just dip the metal into the bag and see if it reacts. It won't corrode the metal but maybe if we coat a section of the leather strap with the mountain ash and expose it to flame, it will break."

Cam's eyes widened. "I don't mind a little flame trying to burn through this thing, but I'm not going to try lighting my whole neck on fire."

"It will be concentrated. If it helps, we can move the necklace to the side so that the flame does not irritate your eyes. I promise, my hands are very steady."

Cam didn't miss the fact that Derek was edging toward the door. There was a sink outside the office—probably where the veterinarian washed up between patients. Cam steadied herself and took a deep breath. "Okay, let's just get this over with. The sooner the better."

Deaton moved the pendant around to the side so that he didn't have to stand so close to her front, for which Cam was grateful. When he lowered the pendant into the bag, Cam winced a little, half expecting everything to go up in flames, but nothing happened. Then, when Deaton tried coating a small section of the cord with the ash, it just fell in little clumps on her shoulder. It wouldn't stick, like the pendant had some kind of wax covering.

"Huh," Deaton said, frowning. He took a step back and looked to Derek. "Other than your teeth, how else did you try to take this off?"

"I pulled on it, she pulled on it, we cut it, burned it, tried to saw at it—nothing worked." Derek explained in a tone that signified he was very much fed up with not having any answers.

Deaton rubbed the space between his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and let out a frustrated groan. "I don't know. I hate not giving you answers, but you're going to have to go back to that shop. The owner is the only one who can truly help you."

"Isn't there anything you can do for Cam?" Derek asked, his voice a little panicked.

"Like what?" Deaton asked.

Cam gave Derek a confused look that rivaled the veterinarian's. "Derek, I'm fine."

"No, I mean…" Derek paused, like he was genuinely trying to think of the best way to phrase his words. "You are a car, Cam. How do I know that being human won't, I don't know, kill you? Mess you up?"

"Aside from your annoying human bodily functions, I think I'm adjusting nicely, actually," Cam said slowly. Just what was Derek getting at? It was nice that he was concerned for her but this was temporary, right? She didn't need to worry about any psychological changes because they wouldn't last long. She could handle it.

"I'm not a human doctor, Derek," Deaton reminded him.

Derek glared at Deaton so hard it actually caused Cam to giggle a little bit and the reflex caught her off guard for a moment. To make up for it, she reached out and tugged on Derek's elbow. "I'm _fine_, Derek, I promise. Let's just get to that shop, okay?"

The glare on Derek's face softened and he turned toward Cam to leave. Deaton made a show of checking his watch and saying, "Let me know if you find out anything else. I'm interested in seeing how this develops."

Derek looked like he was going to say something but Cam beat him to it. "We'll let you know, Dr. Deaton. Thank you."

Cam then pulled Derek out the door and when they were safely out of the vet's clinic and back at Peter's car, she turned on him.

"What the hell was that?"

Derek didn't even bother to look surprised. "What?"

Cam could feel herself swelling up. Her voice steadily grew in volume without her even thinking about it. "You held all kinds of information from him," she spat. "Like whom this pendant was really for. I thought it was just some magic item you acquired, but it's for that kid, isn't it? This is for Stiles?" She followed her outburst with a look that dared him to try and shut her down again. She was a custom model, damn it, he should respect her.

Instead of changing the subject, Derek looked panicked that she was yelling so loudly. He immediately threw his arms in front of his body in a sweeping motion that probably meant for her to stop talking. It worked, but only because it was interesting to watch. "I wasn't going to give it to him," he said at last, in a hushed voice.

"Then what were you going to do with it?" Cam asked, her voice still raised. Derek's eyes widened and she lowered her voice to a loud whisper, like him. "Just keep it?"

"Maybe."

"And stare at it in longing? Derek…"

"It was an impulse buy. I was just looking… and thinking… and then he walked in and I panicked, okay? I was just going to keep it until the right time. If there ever was a right time. I'll probably never give it to him." Derek looked genuinely mortified.

Cam felt a surge of all kinds of emotions. Humans really had a wide range of them. She wanted to hit him and yell at him but at the same time wrap her arms around him in an embrace and pat his hair. Was this instinct? What was it? In either case, the focus was on Derek and not her, and she forced herself to stay on topic. What was the topic, anyway? Derek's inability to tell Stiles that he likes spending time with him? Cam knew about humans who felt an uncontrollable urge to be with another human. Cars were so often the witness to all kinds of interesting acts.

So she tried her best to guess. "Because you don't think he feels the same way?"

Derek shook his head, but it didn't change anything. "Because he's a kid, cam. He's a teenager and he doesn't know what he's doing."

"You're right, he doesn't." Cam agreed. She had no idea what she was doing, either, but she had Derek. And, actually, so did Stiles. She smiled. "That's why he has you. I've been with you for a while, Derek. We've watched his house together, don't forget that."

Derek grumbled like he really, really didn't like what Cam was saying and stalked his way to the other side of Peter's car to the driver's side door. Cam watched him for a moment and another surge of the awful kind of human emotions overtook her. She had to let the tension out somehow and ended up stomping her cold foot on the pavement.

"Damn it, Derek! You can't hide things from me. I've seen you at your most vulnerable. You've shared secrets with me in the dark that _no one_ should have to hear. I could easily blackmail you but I won't because you're my driver and I love you but you're so _stupid_ sometimes." As she spoke, her voice cracked a little and she found it strange. Had she spoken too much? Could humans only speak so much per day and then just stop? Maybe that's why some people didn't talk too much. They were saving their words for later. Cam didn't know if she should continue talking or not.

Her words must have hit Derek hard because he whirled around to face her, pointing his keys in her general direction. "You're a _car_. What do you know about love?"

Cam's lowered her voice, not out of courtesy but because she was afraid it would crack again and she would lose her words and it was only morning. "All that time I've sat quietly and watched you. I know you, Derek. That kid might not deserve you and he gets on my nerves more than a flat tire, but you care about him. I'm sure even _this_ bucket of junk can see that." She instinctively hit Peter's car on the roof and swore she could feel it vibrate angrily under her, but perhaps it was in her mind.

Derek groaned and sat down in the car with such force that it shook a little. As he revved the engine, Cam got inside and folded her arms harshly across her chest, glaring at him the entire time.

"Fine," Derek said eventually. His voice sounded like it was back to normal. "We'll go to Hopewell's and see what can be done."

Cam felt the corners of her mouth tugging upward into a smile. She hadn't wanted to smile, but it seemed like her body was doing it anyway. Just how much did humans do out of habit? "Great. You're doing the right thing."

"I'm not admitting to anything," he pointed out.

"Not yet."

Derek didn't answer. In fact, he didn't speak for the rest of the car ride to Hopewell's. Cam assumed he was saving his words.

* * *

Cam never thought she would be so happy to see the run down and over-packed store. When they'd first pulled up to the lot, Cam thought Derek was crazy for even going inside, and it turned out she was right. She never wanted to back there, again. Funny how things worked out.

Derek barged in angrily. He hadn't even bothered to lock the doors. Cam followed him in at a quickened pace. The shop was even more crowded on the inside. From what she could tell from the front window it looked pretty bad. Apparently it smelled even worse. It was like the shopkeeper wanted to burn three different kinds of incense at once.

The shop was empty, so when Derek marched right up to the counter, Cam took the opportunity to have a look around while Derek rang the little bell on the counter so many times it was giving her a headache.

The glass shelves were lined with all sorts of knick-knacks that had no place anywhere. Cam didn't recognize the materials. Clay, probably, or plastic, stone or glass. Some of the trinkets looked cheap and some looked as though maybe the creator put a little bit of love into them. Her hand when to the pendant again, absent-mindedly thumbing it as she browsed.

Eventually, the old man came out from his room in the back and made a strangled sort of noise when he saw Derek. Cam cautiously peered at the two of them from behind a spinner of badly phrased magnets. Derek looked like he was going to rip out the guys throat. Cam wondered if it was her responsibility to be on werewolf control.

The old man adjusted his glasses and held up a hand to try and soothe Derek. "What is it I can do for you, young man?" In spite of Derek's obvious hostility, he face is a happy mask.

The sight confused Cam a bit, and it probably did the same to Derek because he suddenly looked a bit guilty. He immediately turned toward Cam to start his question, but the old shopkeeper chose that time to let out a delighted shriek and clapped his hands together. He rushed to the end of the counter closer to Cam and was practically bouncing with excitement, his eyes trained on the pendant in her grasp.

"Oh my! You're wearing the charm he bought. Such a lovely pendant it made, too," he hummed. "You are a very lucky woman."

Cam felt her face grow hot. Did everything think she was attractive? Or did all men just find all girls attractive? It was so odd. Then something else he said registered in her mind. He'd also called her lucky. Lucky how? To be with Derek? Her face grew even hotter and she opened her mouth to object because very clearly Cam was not the person Derek wanted to be with and Derek was her driver and that was not something a car thought about.

Derek, however, stepped over to her and wrapped an arm around her waist, effectively causing her to shut her mouth and look up at him in disbelief. "Yeah," he said casually. "She doesn't like it and I want to return it, but we can't get it off. Do you have anything we could use?"

Ah, Cam understood. She let go of the pendant and tried to pretend like it was the most horrible thing in the world which, really, wasn't much of a stretch.

The old man frowned. "But it looks so nice on her."

Derek grit his teeth and nearly barked out, "I don't want her wearing it!" Cam gasped a little and wanted to discreetly step on Derek's foot to remind him not to be a dick, but Derek seemed to get the message without Cam's little reminder which was too bad. He quickly changed the tone of his voice to be a bit sweeter, more genuine. "I want to exchange it for something better."

The old man, probably Mr. Hopewell himself, winked a bit at the two of them. Cam didn't miss the strange twinkle in his eye. "Well it certainly is a problem if the charm won't come off. I could do the exchange if you like, but…" he paused, probably for effect. "You must remove the pendant yourself."

Derek's grip around Cam's waist tightened, but his face remained cheerful. "And the only way to do that is…?"

Mr. Hopwell shrugged. "I don't know, I'm just a salesman." He actually giggled a bit and the effect made him look like a mad owl, especially behind his coke bottle lenses.

Up until that point, it had been Derek who was trying to keep himself in composure and not go off the deep end. Cam had had an easier time, but mostly because she was still getting used to everything else that was going on. This time, however, Mr. Hopewell had clearly gotten their hopes up and then thrown them to the ground so that they could shatter worse than headlights in a rear-end collision. Cam could feel her insides boiled again and she leaned in a little, making sure Mr. Hopewell understood everything she said.

"Look sir, I'm not sure if you're really understanding what we're saying here. _The necklace will not come off_. It's a bit of an inconvenience for me, you see, and I'm really not in the mood for riddles and theatrics. Get it off.'

Mr. Hopewell refused to look threatened. He just looked sad and Cam wondered what it was that they weren't getting. What crucial piece of information were they lacking? Even Derek deflated a little bit after the look Hopewell gave them. When he spoke, even his voice sounded defeated. "Only the buyer and the receiver can take off the pendant. There must be an unresolved problem. If you can sort it out, and you will go free."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Cam asked.

"Come on," Derek answered for her. "We won't get anything useful out of him. Let's go." With a final tug of his arm around her waist, he lead them out of the store, leaving the old Mr. Hopewell alone at his desk.

* * *

They were barely on the road again when Cam pried her eyes from the window and muttered in frustration, "Can we just go shopping for clothes, now?"

Derek didn't even get angry. It was as if he'd reached his quota for anger for the day and he just decided to not care anymore. "Seriously," he deadpanned. "I'm not about to take you shopping."

Cam looked down at the oversized clothing she'd been forced to wear all morning. "But these clothes are really uncomfortable and I hate shuffling in these flip flops. It's cold out and your pants keep falling off my hips. It looks like I'm going to be stuck like this for a while, so I'm going to need something more comfortable to wear."

Derek shrugs. "I'll call Stiles and see if he's ready for Lydia, yet."

"You mentioned her before. Who is this Lydia, anyway? I've never driven her around."

Derek stared hard at the road, but Cam didn't miss the look he gave his windshield. "You'll see."


End file.
